The Forsaken Hero

The Cathedral of Fate dominated the city skyline, the transformation from the dilapidated ruin I remembered was nothing short of breathtaking. Its spires soared, gleaming softly in the starlight. The stained glass windows, now pristine and vibrant, displayed colorful depictions of Fate and her heroes. I even recognized Gathrin’s imposing figure in one, his sword point driven into the ground, his hand resting on the cross guard.

The cathedral radiated a welcoming warmth that intensified as we drew closer. It was a beacon in the night, its radiance illuminating the inner city as though it were midday.

The main gates stood open, anticipating our arrival. Intricate tile mosaics shimmered beneath our feet, smooth as glass and colored in gold, silver, and white hues. The ceilings were patterned after the night sky, a myriad of shining stars illuminating the expansive hallways and rooms.

The main corridor led directly into the inner sanctum, where the massive statue of Fate and the remnant had once stood. Now, the statue was gone, replaced by the radiant shard of omniscience. It glittered brightly, refracting starlight into countless rainbows that danced across the room’s surfaces.

Standing before it was a remnant. My breath hitched as its eyes settled on me, a wave of panic flaring in my chest. Of all the remnants, this one I recognized—the terrifying visage of the guardian of Fate’s Cathedral.

I willed myself to follow Luke, who had entered the room unfazed, but my feet refused to obey. My chest ached where the slave crest had once marred my flesh, my breath shallow and heart erratic. Though the hall now gleamed with gilded splendor, the last time I had stood here, it was against Alverin. For a terrifying moment, I saw his silhouette beside the remnant, a grinning specter of his living self.

"You’ll never forget me," his voice whispered, a haunting echo in my mind. "The mark I’ve left on your heart. And because of that... you’ll always be my slave."

I whimpered involuntarily, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood. Was he right? Lately, I had been succumbing to old fears and anxieties, from mistrusting Fyren to this very moment, trembling at the memory of a man I had killed. After all this time, why couldn’t I truly escape the past? I wanted to believe in the possibility of freedom from the darkness, but what was I missing? How many pieces of the puzzle were still hidden from me?

"Xiviyah, dwell not on the past," Fate’s voice cut through the suffocating memories, banishing Alverin’s specter. "The past is a shackle as real as any chain. Live now, in this moment, and you can be free."

I hesitated, my gaze drawn back to the imposing remnant. Its sword was sheathed, but it had tried to kill me before, and if it really wanted to, there was nothing I could do to protect myself from it. Beyond that, it was also the only remnant who had ever spoken to me, condemning me for tainting this realm with darkness.

"Come in peace, Oracle," The remnant’s voice resonated, ancient yet soothing. "You have nothing to fear in these hallowed halls."